


Handled

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Greg, Dom Mycroft, Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Paddling, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Punishment, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub Greg, Subdrop, Top Mycroft, collaring, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes what you're looking for can be found in an unexpected place. Greg is looking for something he's not sure anyone can give him. Mycroft is willing to try, but will Greg be willing to accept him once he finds out just who has been handling him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handled

Mycroft always had an ear to this city. Much of it had to do with his job, of course, but there were...predilections that he looked out for. And he also, of course, kept an eye out for those important to his brother. Rarely did those predilections and those people cross, but when they did, well...

He looked down at the photograph in his hand. Taken four weeks ago at a certain club. The man had taken some pains to keep his identity secret; after all, it would do nothing good for his career if he was found out. But Mycroft knew the man on his knees, drying come in his hair, mouth wrapped around another cock. Knew the man in the tight leather corset and leather trousers. He also knew the club, had been there a time or two himself. He enjoyed observing and only rarely indulged beyond that.

For this, he might well make an exception. The man in the leather corset had been going once a week for the last three months, aside from when work made it impossible. He would be there tonight. Mycroft stood and buttoned his suit coat, picking up his umbrella and heading out.

**

Greg cried out, pulling against his bonds as a vibrator was shoved into his hole. "Yes, sir. Please, more. I want your cock, please."

“Do you?” he growled, working the vibrator expertly. “Let me know how badly.”

"Ahh! I need it please, sir. Fuck me, use my mouth," Greg cried out as his prostate was stimulated, cock hard and leaking, despite the ring around the base.

“Whattya think, Jerry? Think the slut’s been good enough for it?” The man behind him grinned at his compatriot.

“Yeah, I think so.” Jerry pulled out his own cock and rested it against swollen lips that already had come drying in the corners.

"Thank you, sir," Greg said gratefully, taking the man in his mouth. He sucked greedily, the salty taste coating his tongue as he thought about the filthy picture he must make. Blindfolded, bound. Gagging on a cock with come in his hair, leather trousers around his thighs and corset pulled tight. He moaned as he felt the bed dip, the second man climbing on and kneeling between his legs.

“Such a good little slut,” whispered the first man in his ear. There was the sound of a condom being ripped open; as much as Greg would love to be dripping with come there were still rules to this club, part of why the folks that come here did. He was fucked slowly with the vibarator a few more times before it was pulled out, hips grabbed, and the man thrust in all at once.

Greg cried out again, hips arching from the bed as he choked himself on the cock in his mouth.

“Good slut,” growled Jerry, fucking his mouth deeper.

Greg nodded, moaning as the other man fucked deep into his hole. He wanted everyone to see, to hear, to know what a good slut he was.

The two men finished at almost the same time. “That’s right, drink my come,” growled Jerry.

Greg sucked him down greedily, lapping up every drop. The men untied him, rubbing the feeling back into his arms as he panted.

Mycroft watched from just offstage, idly stroking his cock. He’d purposely put himself towards the end. Greg was clearly drifting, laying back here they’d left him, making no effort to remove the blindfold, or the cock ring. Good. Someone gave Greg a quick drink, then nodded that it was his turn. Licking his lips, Mycroft approached the object of his lust, grabbing his hair and kissing him, tasting the man that had just finished on his lips, before pulling off and rolling him over.

Greg moaned in pleasure at the new man’s actions. He was pushed over like a puppet, and it felt good to be positioned without regard. He breathed in deep, something about the man seeming faintly familiar.

Mycroft tugged the ties of the corset, restricting his air for a moment before releasing and pushing himself in at the same time. Even after the previous use, Greg was still tight around him, heaving for breath underneath him. Mycroft leaned over him and ran his teeth over his shoulder.

Greg shuddered as the man growled, pushing into him. He arched his back at the feel of teeth at his shoulder, wanting inexplicably to be marked by this stranger.

The mixture of leather and sweat was intoxicating. Mycroft didn’t dare speak, just pinned Greg’s wrists and took what he wanted.

Greg cried out as he was used, the man fucking deep into him. He let out a loud keening noise as his prostate was struck, the spot having been ignored all night. His cock throbbed, bouncing against his stomach.

Mycroft let go of one wrist to pull on the ties again at the same time as he hit his prostate again.

Greg gasped as his cock jumped again, thick pre come oozing from the head despite the ring. “Please!” he cried out, wanting release for the first time that night. He was desperate for it, this stranger working him unlike any other.

The Master crouched down by Greg’s head. “You want to come?”

“Yess,” Greg hissed as his prostate was stuck again.

The Master gave a signal to Mycroft, who pulled most of the way out and held himself there until the ring could be removed. “Do you need help or will you get him off yourself?” asked the Master.

In response, Mycroft drove in again, repeating his actions with the ties and Greg’s prostate, feeling the man clamp around him.

Greg arched, coming so hard his body shook, spurting across the mattress as everything went dark around him. He came to a few seconds later, the Master patting his cheek, but he could already tell the stranger had left.

**

A few days after, Mycroft picked Greg up from a crime scene, his usual imperious self. “Sherlock is still clean.”

“Yeah, I know, he’s on my crime scenes isn’t he?” Greg grumbled.

“It is impressive. No one else has managed to keep him clean this long.”

“I have something he wants.” Greg shrugged.

“Perhaps so, but I am grateful nonetheless.”

“All right.” Greg regarded the man warily, unable to keep his eyes from darting to Mycroft’s thick thighs and the slight bulge even his suits couldn’t hide. “Was there somethin’ you wanted or…?”

“Simply wanted to check up on you.”

“Huh,” Greg grumbled. “Coulda called. You have my number.”

“I do, but perhaps I enjoy seeing you as well.” Mycroft’s expression didn’t change.

“I..excuse me?” Greg blinked in surprise.

“I do believe this is your flat, Inspector. Have a good evening.”

Greg startled as the driver opened the door, gesturing him out.

Mycroft watched him go, sighing softly. Ridiculous. He’d never consent to anything more normal. Not after what his ex-wife put him through. And he knew better than to be sentimental.

Greg paced around his tiny bedsit. What the hell was Mycroft on about? Thinking he could just pick him up, say such things. Greg needed a distraction. He glanced up at the clock. If he rushed, he could make it to the club in time for the night to begin.

Mycroft was surprised at the alert on his mobile. Greg had gone to the club. And it wasn’t his usual day. He quickly gave an order to his driver.

**

Greg sighed in relief as the Master handed him a blindfold and directed him to the stage. They’d just been able to slip him in to play, another cancellation paving his way.

Mycroft got in near the end, his influence good for a few things. He knew he had to be the reason why Greg had come, but he didn’t understand why.

Greg was floating, the sensation of being used taking him very close to subspace. There was only one customer left, and then he could go home and rest, thoroughly shagged out and relaxed.

Mycroft took in the sight of Greg on his hands and knees, cheek pressed against the bed. No corset; there hadn’t been enough time. The Master crouched by him and ran fingers through Greg’s hair. “He wishes to know if he can spank you.”

Greg nodded his consent, letting a low moan escape him. Ending the night on his hands and knees, arse reddened and tender. Perfect.

Mycroft came behind Greg. Sweat already glistened on his skin. He ran a hand along one cheek in warning, then raised his hand and brought it down, quickly striking the other cheek. He checked on Greg, then settled into a pattern that would keep him guessing.

Greg groaned at the mix of pleasure and pain shooting through his system. He rutted into the mattress, trying to get friction to his cock, only to whine as he was tugged away.

Keeping him firmly in place, Mycroft gave a few more swats, feeling him sink even deeper into subspace. Good. When he was satisfied, he slicked up himself and slowly sank into the man’s pliant body.

Greg’s head was fuzzy, little sparks of pleasure breaking through the fog as he was used. He heard a distant moan, realizing it was him making the noise as his prostate was reached.

Mycroft let his thumbs run across the aching red skin of Greg’s arse. He longed to be the one to take care of him, to soothe his hurt. But that was impossible. He knew that. Better to have these stolen, anonymous moments. And if he thought about Greg on occasion in the shower in the morning, well, it didn’t mean anything at all.

Greg was suddenly aware of his bollocks pulling tight to his body. “Sir. Gonna come. Please”

Mycroft nodded. “That’s fine,” said the Master, reaching to stroke him off.

Greg bucked into the touch even as the stranger thrust into him again, spilling over with a strangled cry. He panted, collapsing to the bed and whimpering lightly as the stranger kept moving inside him.

Mycroft ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to praise, but his voice would give him away. The Master seemed to understand though. “You’re doing so well,” he said, looking between the two of them.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Greg gasped as the stranger fucked him hard. “More sir, I need it.”

The Master slipped a pillow under Greg’s hips. Mycroft braced himself and pounded into him, chasing his own orgasm.

Greg cried out with each thrust, begging for more. He could hear the other customers around, watching, hear the slap of skin on skin. He loved it, the feeling of utter debasement.

Only a few thrusts more and Mycroft was coming, biting back a groan. He managed to avoid completely collapsing on Greg’s back, resting on his elbows and kissed the base of his neck.

Greg whined as the stranger pulled out, the lingering feel of a kiss on his neck making him clutch, trying to keep him in.

There was a low chuckle and the stranger left, leaving him loose limbed and sprawled on the mattress.

**

Greg was pacing again, this time for an entirely different reason than Mycroft Holmes. Or perhaps not. He had been going to the club on his regularly scheduled nights, and each time, the very last customer was the same fantastic shag. He smelled familiar, had a familiar chuckle, but never spoke. Greg was fighting a niggling feeling that somehow, someway, he knew the man.

He planned tonight, to break the rules, let his blindfold slip away in the middle of the game. He would see the man, find out who was using him.

He glanced at the clock and went to get ready. Tonight, he would be dressed extra special. Nothing like a bit of drama along with a great reveal.

Mycroft’s breath was stolen as he watched Greg. He was wearing the same black leather corset as the first time, but now there was a red garter belt and a red collar. Someone had already left a mark on his shoulder, and Mycroft felt a wave of jealousy he quickly beat back. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what Greg would look like wearing his collar.

Finally, it was his turn and Mycroft moved towards the bed.

Greg stilled as the bed dipped for the last man of the night. He got a whiff of the cologne and knew. It was him.

Mycroft started touch his arse, only to have him roll onto his back and offer himself. Well, that was different, but the sight of Greg Lestrade, in that outfit, spread open and willing for him? There was no way to resist that. He pushed up the man’s knees and started pressing inside.

Greg threw his head back as he was entered, stealthily working the knot of his blindfold off and over as the stranger moved inside him.

Mycroft bit back a moan. Greg’s hands were tucked under his head, leaving him perfectly vulnerable. It was delicious.

Greg waited until the man had thrust deep, before arching up and throwing his arms over his back, pulling him close. He pushed the blindfold off, staring into the eyes of the man currently fucking him. “Mycroft!”

Mycroft was stunned and froze for half a moment. Then he blushed furiously, pushed off the bed and tried to escape.

“Wait,” Greg begged, “Please!”

Mycroft hesitated. The rest of the crowd mumbled and mostly started to make themselves scarce.

Greg stumbled off the bed and down from the stage, coming forward to Mycroft. “You can’t leave.”

Mycroft caught him. “You can’t want me.”

“I wanted you here.” Greg said, “Why wouldn’t I want you out there?”

“Why would you?”

“You know exactly what I need, how to get me there.” Greg said, stepping in toward Mycroft.

Mycroft’s breath was short. He looked at Greg, then reached out to touch his arm.

Greg nodded encouragingly, stepping closer. “You didn’t finish what you started.” He murmured, eyes closing as he bared his neck.

Mycroft leaned in to kiss his neck. “Come back to mine.”

“Yes,” Greg said, aware of the eyes on them. “Please.”

“Where are your clothes?”

"In the lockers. I'll get them. Don't leave,” Greg murmured, moving away. He was back a few minutes later, dressed with shoes on. Winding his arms around Mycroft's neck he tipped his mouth close.

"Take me home. Use me, My," he breathed.

Mycroft turned and kissed him. "My car is waiting."

Greg took his hand, pulling him toward the entrance. Much to Mycroft's chagrin, as they reached the door, the club burst out in cheers, the other members hooting and whistling. Greg grinned. "They've been trying to find me someone for ages."

“I don’t know why it would take ages. You’re delicious,” muttered Mycroft.

"Never had anyone I'd take the blindfold off for," Greg said, blinking up at him. "No one who could give me what I wanted. Kiss me, sir?"

Mycroft pulled him close and granted him a chaste kiss. “I want you on your knees in my bedroom,” he growled.

"Yes, sir," Greg nodded, and allowed himself to be led outside and into the car.

Mycroft watched Greg as they were driven back to his. He thought about the various toys and things, all the ways he wanted to take this man apart. “What are your ground rules?”

"No scat. No permanent scarring unless discussed. Sharing is fine, as long as it is safe, and I’m told before hand. Safe word is Antarctica." Greg replied, shivering under Mycroft's gaze.

“May I take you without a condom?”

"Are you clean?" Greg asked. Anyone other than Mycroft he wouldn't trust. But he knew he wouldn't lie.

“Yes. I can provide you with my last test results if you like. Are you?”

Greg nodded. "The club has my last results on file. It's required."

“I know.” Mycroft looked him over. “Would you like to make an exclusive arrangement?” He wanted to. Badly, but it was up to Gregory.

Greg swallowed, searching Mycroft's face. If anyone, he could trust Mycroft to treat him well. Give him what he needed in bed and then be his equal elsewhere. "Would this be more than just sex?"

“If you would allow me to. Of course I will not interfere with your work and your other business. But you would live with me and I could take care of you.” Mycroft reached out and brushed his knee.

Greg's chest tightened at the feel of Mycroft's hand, even that small touch setting his heart racing. "I would like that." Greg nodded. "I want to be yours."

Mycroft reached up and ran his thumb along his adam’s apple. “Would you wear my collar?”

Greg swallowed, the heat of Mycroft's hand tracing along his neck making his cock swell. "Yes, Mycroft."

“Master when we’re in scene, or sir.”

Greg nodded. "Yes, sir."

“Good.” The car came to a stop. Mycroft got opened the door for him and got out first, leading him into the house. “Upstairs, third door on the left is my bedroom. Go on, get out of your street clothes, fold them, and wait for me.”

Greg shivered. "Yes, sir."

He moved as instructed, stripping down and folding his clothes carefully. He kneeled at the edge of the bed, bowing his head and facing the door to wait for Mycroft.

Mycroft gathered some things and came to the bedroom, stopping and staring at the gorgeous sight before him. Finally, he stepped forward. “This is a temporary collar. I will get you a proper one,” he said softly, putting it around Greg’s throat and cinching it. “I very much like you in that corset. I will happily provide you another one and anything else you need.” He slipped a cock ring over Greg’s half-hard cock before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Come, over my lap. You need punished for removing your blindfold.”

Greg tightened his fingers on his thigh. Should he argue, see how Mycroft handled it when he back talked before they got any further? He knew he could trust him, but how far? Making up his mind, he shook his head. "No, sir."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “No?”

Greg didn’t respond, keeping his head bowed.

Mycroft stilled, his own cock aching. He knew this was a test. Greg hadn’t safe worded, simply refused. “Very well, then,” he said. “I’m disappointed. You may remain here. If you care to join me at any point, I will be downstairs in the study. If you come to me without the collar then the scene is over and nothing will happen. If you come to me with the collar then I am expecting that you have decided to take your punishment.”

He turned and walked out, taking a deep breath once he was in the hall. Time to have a glass of wine and try to calm his erection.

Greg blinked as Mycroft walked out. He would go down to the study, collar on. That much was apparent, by the way Mycroft had handled him, calm and steady. Leaving him to think about why he deserved punishment, rather than forcing him into something. Today, there wouldn’t have been an issue, Greg knew he was in the proper mindset for a scene. But in the future, despite how much he might need and want it, he might not be able to let go. Too strung out from work, from life. Mycroft had just proved he’d be able to handle him. Greg stood carefully after waiting a bit longer, and made his way down the stairs, slipping into the study.

Mycroft was in a chair by the fire, sipping a glass of wine. He saw Greg enter, collar on. Good. He gestured for Greg to come to his lap.

Greg slid over Mycroft’s lap without a word, waiting for his punishment.

Mycroft set the glass aside and smoothed his hand over Greg’s arse. He could feel that the cock ring remained in place as well. “Count,” he ordered, raising his hand.

“Yes, sir,” Greg said, closing his eyes and relaxing his body. At the first crack of pain over his arse, he cried out. “One.”

Mycroft’s hand was steady. He delivered ten before stopping to check on his sub.

Greg was trembling, mind completely fuzzed over as his arse burned. He whined as Mycroft stopped, the loss of the pain-pleasure disappointing, drawing him back to awareness. “Master?” he asked quietly, wondering where Mycroft’s hand had gone.

Mycroft smoothed his hand over his arse. “Good, Gregory.” He pulled out a bottle of lube and coated his fingers, pressing one inside.

Greg let his head fall back down against Mycroft’s leg, keening quietly. “More please.”

A second finger was added, then a third. Mycroft’s other hand rest on the back of Greg’s neck keeping him in place.

Greg pushed back against the fingers steadily fucking into him, Mycroft’s hand warm and steadying on his neck. “Please, sir. Fuck me.”

“In a few moments,” Mycroft promised, continuing to open him.

“Now,” Greg begged. “Sir, I need it.”

Mycroft tightened the hand on his neck. “Do you trust me to take care of you?”

Greg whined, nodding his head.

“Then allow me to do so.” Mycroft twisted his finger and started massaging his prostate.

Greg writhed, clutching for the carpet under his fingertips. “No, want your cock. Please Master.”

“Please, just trust me,” said Mycroft continuing his actions, wanting Greg to submit.

One more graze against his prostate and Greg gave in, body going limp over Mycroft’s lap. “Yes, master.”

“Good boy,” muttered Mycroft, moving his hand to run fingers through his hair, fucking him for another moment with his fingers before pulling them out. He was still fully dressed and he reached down to pull out his cock before shifting Greg up to a seat, holding him against his chest as he pushed inside.

Greg cried out as he was finally filled, Mycroft stretching him wide, pressing deep inside. He brought his hands up to twist their fingers together where Mycroft was holding him against his chest.

Leaning in, Mycroft started sucking a mark at the base of his neck, just below the collar, moving steadily inside of him.

Greg moaned as Mycroft fixed his mouth on him, cock grazing against his prostate. Mycroft’s suit was chafing against his bare skin and reddened arse, as he pressed him closer.

“You’re mine,” growled Mycroft. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” Greg replied, panting as he was all but bounced on Mycroft’s lap while the man thrust. “Use me.”

Wrapping an arm around Greg’s waist, he flipped them around so Greg was kneeling in his chair and he could pound into him, pulling the strings of the corset tighter.

Greg groaned, breaths coming in short waves as Mycroft controlled his corset.

Mycroft could see how much Greg’s cock was leaking, both from the earlier prostate stimulation and now. Reaching down with his free hand he loosened the cock ring, giving his cock a stroke.

“Master. Can I...ah..come please?” Greg begged, tears beginning to fall at the overwhelming sensations.

“Yes, Gregory,” Mycroft grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket in anticipation.

Greg shivered at the cool cotton tickling over his cockhead and with one more thrust he was coming, arching into Mycroft’s hand.

Mycroft caught the mess, unwilling (at least right now) to stain his favorite chair. “Good,” he praised. Shifting Greg around, he bent him over the chair and pulled his wrists behind his back, absolutely using him.

Greg moaned softly, drifting as Mycroft used him. He knew he was slipping deeper, dangerously far into total submission, something he was rarely able to find at the club. Mycroft drove into him once more, and Greg felt himself slide into a fog, relaxed and safe, knowing that Mycroft could be trusted.

Mycroft felt the change in his lover. Good. He kept going until he came, panting and enjoying the feel of his lover, turning and pulling him into his arms in the chair once again, smoothing his hands over his skin.

Greg turned in towards his master, body shaking slightly. He could hear Mycroft’s distant crooning as he was petted, and he buried his head in the crook of Mycroft’s arm.

Shrugging off his suit coat, Mycroft wrapped it around his sub’s shoulders, continuing to hold him tenderly. He wondered just how long it had been since Greg had managed to fall so deep.

Greg stilled as something warm was draped over him, Mycroft’s scent strong on the fabric. Blinking his eyes open slowly he looked up as his Master, meeting his gaze. “Thank you.” He murmured, words seeming like they flowed from his lips, dripping into the air like molasses.

“You’re welcome.” He shifted and poured some water, bringing it to his lips.

Greg drank greedily, the water soothing his throat. He hummed as Mycroft stroked his hair, the soothing repetition bringing him slightly out of his bliss. "My?"

“Yes?”

"Just checking," Greg slurred, turning his head back into Mycroft.

Mycroft kissed the top of his head and braced himself, lifting Greg and carrying him out of the study and up to his bedroom. He lay him down and tucked him in, changing into pyjamas and sliding in to spoon around him, glad for the treasure in his arms.

Greg pressed against Mycroft, curling into him with a pleased sigh.

**

Greg woke the next morning, eyes fluttering as he blinked into awareness. He shifted, muscles aching as he noted a warm body next to his own. With a gasp, the events of last night came back to him, and he turned to see Mycroft.

Mycroft opened his eyes and bit his lip as Greg stirred. “Gregory?” Had it all been a mistake after all?

Greg leaned in, nuzzling into Mycroft’s neck. “It actually was you.”

Mycroft wrapped his arms around him. “Has been for weeks,” he admitted.

“I figured,” Greg whispered. “Detective, you know.” He tapped the side of Mycroft’s nose with a single finger, giddy and excited.

Mycroft leaned in and kissed him gently. “Do you wish to continue this arrangement?”

“Yes, please,” Greg replied.

“Good. Do you want to move in here?”

Greg considered. It wasn’t as if he had just met Mycroft, they’d known each other for years. He looked at Mycroft carefully. “Two weeks off and on to test it out. My lease is up in three. If it works out, and we don’t get on each other’s nerves, yes, I’d love to.”

“Okay. I know you need to go to work. Did you wish to wear anything while you’re away from me?”

Greg nodded. “It would have to be hidden. A small chain with tags, maybe?”

“May I have something delivered to you by lunchtime?”

“Yes, sir,” Greg said softly, kissing Mycroft’s throat.

Mycroft moaned softly. “You’re tempting me to stay in bed.”

“I have a few hours, sir. If you wish.”

“Mm, my job offers some flexibility.” Mycroft ran fingers through Greg’s hair, guiding his mouth towards his slowly hardening cock and pushing his bottoms down.

Greg moaned greedily as Mycroft’s fingers twisted in his hair, forcing his mouth down onto his cock.

“Mmm, your mouth is sinful,” muttered Mycroft.

Greg hummed happily around Mycroft’s length, bobbing his head.

“Good boy,” muttered Mycroft.

Greg flushed with pleasure at the praise, pulling up to tease Mycroft’s slit with his tongue.

“Oh God.” Mycroft met his eyes, reaching out to run fingers through his hair. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you. How much I’ve wanted you just to myself?”

Greg shook his head.

“More than a year. I only found out for certain about the club a few weeks ago. But even before that I wanted you. The club...seeing you like that...it only made me want you more.”

Greg pulled off completely, staring up at Mycroft as his hair was tugged lightly. “Choke me. Please. I want you.”

Mycroft nodded and rolled them over, bracing himself to fuck Greg’s mouth.

Greg choked as Mycroft thrust in, cutting off his air for a moment before pulling back. He repeated the motion, tears beading at Greg’s eyes as he was used, groaning deeply.

It was obvious what kind of effect Mycroft was having on Greg. And it only made Mycroft’s cock swell more. “That’s it,” he whispered harshly. “Take it.”

Greg nodded, begging wordlessly for Mycroft’s release as his hands twisted in the sheets.

Mycroft slowed his thrusts, leaving him gasping when he did pull back, eyes blown dark with lust and thrilling with the power of it.

Greg whined as Mycroft pulled away, moving his head to follow. “Sir, please.”

“Spread your legs for me.”

Greg spread his legs obediently, waiting for more instruction.

Mycroft got up and went to a drawer, returning in a few moments with a plug, and lube. “If this is too much, I want you to tell me,” he said softly.

Greg nodded, pulling his knees up for Mycroft without being asked.

Mycroft slicked the toy and worked it in. “Do you think you can wear this all day?”

“Yes, sir. Please.” Greg muttered as he was filled.

“Good boy.” Mycroft kissed the inside of his thigh. “I want you to go on and take a shower. There will be breakfast downstairs by the time you’re done. You’ll receive a package from me by lunchtime. A car will pick you up when you are done with work. If I’m not here when you get home tonight, the house is yours. If for any reason I think I will be later than eight, I’ll let you know and you have permission to free yourself. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Greg said, happily, wiggling to settle the plug before moving to the bathroom.

**

Greg sighed, sitting down carefully at his desk. Lunch was coming soon, and he was anxious to receive Mycroft’s package. The day had been hectic, Dimmock had decided to argue with Sally, leading to a fight in the middle of the Yard. Greg had broken it up, and Dimmock had decided that meant he would get to yell at Greg. He moved his hips slightly, startling as there was a knock at his door.

“Sir? Package for you.”

Greg accepted the small box with a smile, thanking the officer. He sat back down after locking his door and opened it. He gasped as he pulled out a soft velvet bag, tipping the contents into his palm. A creamy dark brown strap, almost like a large bracelet, was inside. He smoothed his thumb over the soft leather and the bronze quill charm dangling. He unclasped the back with trembling hands, settling it around his neck. The charm sat just in the dip of his collarbone, looking completely normal and natural. Oddly enough, he found his eyes tearing up, and he picked up his phone snapping a picture.

Opening it in a new window, he tapped out a message to Mycroft.

 _It’s beautiful._ Clicking send, he waited for a response, deciding to grab his lunch before any more bodies came in.

In his own office, Mycroft was hiding his anxiety under telling the Romanian vice-president exactly what he thought about his trade proposal. And very few people could stand up to a tongue lashing from Mycroft Holmes. His phone beeped with a message. He finished the conversation and picked up his mobile, smiling softly at the picture.

__I can’t wait to see you naked in our bed tonight. MH__

Greg shivered, nearly choking around his sandwich. “Our bed” he murmured aloud. Two words and his cock was jumping. _Yes, sir. Thank you._

 _Enjoy the rest of your day. MH_ Mycroft turned his attention to his work. He’d much rather be fucking Greg over this desk, if he was honest with himself.

____**_ _ _ _

Greg entered the house around 6:40, sliding his shoes off at the door. Mycroft wasn’t home yet, but as he entered the kitchen, he noted a box sitting on the table. Going over curiously, he picked up the paper sitting atop. _Dinner in the oven. Eat. Box contents for you. Wait for me. MH_

Greg set the note down, and walked over to the oven, peering in. He grinned, noting the casserole dish before going back over to examine the box. He slid the flap open, peering inside. A leather collar rested inside, engraved with quills that matched his necklace and _Property of Mycroft Holmes_ in a flowing script. Greg traced a finger along the words, swallowing back emotion. He moved away, fetching his phone from his hanging coat, opening another message to Mycroft.

_Sir...It’s amazing. Thank you._

Mycroft was presently holding a gun on a recalcitrant Romanian assassin. Still, he glanced at his mobile.

_Be home soon. MH_

Just needed the backup to arrive. Greg smiled down at his phone and went to dish out some dinner. He ate quickly, then moved to the bedroom, stripping down and lying on the bed with a book. A bit later his phone buzzed, and he looked up, noting that it was half past eight. He frowned and fetched his mobile.

_I apologize. Events took longer than anticipated. I’m coming home as soon as I can, but given the extended period of time you have every permission to relieve yourself. MH_

_I can wait for you if you wish, sir._ Greg tapped out, slightly disappointed.

_For now I leave decision up to you. I cannot state with certainty when exactly I will be home. MH_

_Yes, sir._

Greg settled back, thinking for a moment. He smiled and picked up the phone again, opening up the voice recorder. Setting it against his pillow, he took his cock in hand, beginning to stroke. He spread his legs, free hand moving down to tease at the plug inside him. He intentionally breathed a bit louder than normal, letting the recorder pick up the low moans spilling from him as he pulled the plug away, sliding in fingers to replace it. He twisted his hand around his cock, giving a small cry as he found his prostate. He worked himself, getting louder and louder until he came, spurting over his hand, dripping onto his chest. He panted, turning into the phone, and uttering a low ‘Thank you, Master’ into the mic before wiping his hand clean and turning it off. He snapped a picture of his soft cock and messy torso and set it as the lock screen. Standing on shaky legs, he entered the bathroom, washing his hands. After he went back to the kitchen, placing the phone atop the box with his new collar and scribbling a quick note to Mycroft, before returning back to the bedroom and curling up to wait.

**

It was close to ten before Mycroft finally walked in his front door. He’d let them know he would almost certainly be in late the following day. He was tired and irritated that he’d already messed up the first full night with his sub. He was also unaware that there was just a little bit of blood on the underside of his left shirt sleeve cuff. The house was quiet, but he knew Greg was still here. Walking in the kitchen, all thoughts of dinner went out his head at the phone and the note. Standing, he took in the lock screen and hit play. Greg shifted on the bed, noise filtering in, dragging him from sleep. Mycroft. He sat up, cocking his head, realizing that Mycroft was listening to his recording. He waited, even after the sounds had finished, but Mycroft didn’t come. Greg slid from the bed, padding down into the kitchen. “Sir?” he asked quietly.

Mycroft turned and gave him a tired smile. “Hello, Gregory. I’m sorry I took so long to get home.”

Greg took in the exhausted set of his shoulders, the droop of his eyes and as Mycroft smoothed his hair, a small amount of blood. “My?” he said hesitantly, “Is everything alright?”

“Unexpectedly rough day,” he said honestly. “I can’t really tell you more.”

"That's fine. I understand." Greg said, coming closer. "Do you want to play?"

“I..I am a bit tired, to be honest.” Mycroft looked down, concerned how he appeared to his new lover

"That's okay." Greg said quietly, tucking himself into Mycroft's arms. "Can I do something for you? A bath maybe?"

Mycroft hugged him. “Please? That sounds wonderful.”

"Eat, please, and I'll go prepare it." Greg pressed a kiss to Mycroft's cheek and left the kitchen.

Mycroft smiled after him. He ate a small meal quickly and went upstairs, finding Greg waiting for him in the bathroom, minding the large tub. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome, sir." Greg said, kneeling on the rug beside the tub.

Mycroft pet his head and undressed. “You may join me if you wish.”

"Yes, please." Greg slid his robe off, and joined Mycroft, settling against his lovers chest.

Mycroft stroked his side. “I apologize for my tardiness. But knowing that I had you to come home to makes everything better.”

"I don't mind. I'm sure one day, work will keep me away too," Greg said quietly. He smiled at Mycroft and sat up. "May I wash your hair, sir?"

“You may.” Mycroft slid down to make it easier. “I’m glad you liked your presents.”

"They were perfect. I can't wait to have you collar me, sir." Greg said, wiggling around and lathering Mycroft's hair. He massaged his scalp for a few minutes, before covering Mycroft's eyes and rinsing his hair.

“Hopefully tomorrow will be less...interesting and I can treat you properly.” Mycroft sighed softly at his touch.

"Don't worry, sir. I know you'll treat me right," Greg replied. He moved, water sloshing around him to fetch a flannel and shower gel. "Sir?"

Mycroft opened his eyes. “Yes, Gregory? And you don’t have to call me sir out of scene.”

"I know, My. But I like it. If you don't, I'll stop." Greg chewed his bottom lip for a moment. "You know that just this is enough, right? We don't have to do scenes every day. I'm alright with vanilla, as long as I can be with you." He held up the soapy cloth. "Can I wash you?"

"Yes. And either way. Whatever you prefer." He leaned in and kissed Greg.

Greg smiled, kissing him back, before rubbing him down, scrubbing carefully over every inch of Mycroft’s body.

Mycroft was more than sleepy by the time that Greg finished. "Thank you," he mumbled.

“You’re welcome.” Greg replied, pulling him from the tub and rubbing him down with a fluffy towel, warm from the radiator. He moved away for a second, coming back with a silk robe, slipping Mycroft’s arms in and knotting the waistband. Mycroft stroked his cheek, Greg pushing into the touch. He led him out and into their bedroom, Greg curling into Mycroft’s arms.

Mycroft sighed happily into him, kissing his neck and sleeping far better than one would have expected for the day he’d had.

**

Almost two weeks into their arrangement, Greg came home fuming. He was shaking with anger, the day having gone from bad to worse. Sherlock had been an arse, Anderson and Donovan had gotten into another shouting match in the middle of the yard and Dimmock had made some remarks about the mark Mycroft had left on his neck.

He hung his coat up, stomping into the study and throwing himself on the sofa, body trembling as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

Mycroft stepped into the study with two glasses of wine. “Did you need to speak about it?”

Greg just growled, pressing his eyes harder.

Mycroft set the glasses aside. “Come here.”

Greg wavered, torn between obeying Mycroft and remaining where he was to sulk.

Mycroft looked at him, then stepped out to retrieve the collar. He returned and stood on the rug. “Come here, Gregory.”

Greg opened his eyes, looking over to see Mycroft waiting with his collar. Grumbling, he slinked over, standing in front of Mycroft.

“Kneel.”

Greg dropped to the ground, back stiff as he glared defiantly up at Mycroft.

“I understand you’ve had a bad day. Will you allow me to relieve you?”

Greg nodded sharply, waiting for Mycroft to move. Internally, he wanted, needed to be claimed and used. But his body was still too strung out from the day to allow him to sink into submission.

“Strip for me.”

Greg stood and began to pull his shirt over his head.

Mycroft waited patiently. When Greg finished, he begrudgingly got back on his knees. Mycroft snapped on his collar, then pulled him over to an ottoman, bending him over it and binding his wrists before blindfolding him.

Greg took in a deep breath through his nose, letting it out as he was bound and positioned, waiting for Mycroft to begin.

Mycroft went to the trunk and took out a paddle. He considered a cockring, but decided to forgo it, at least for now. With only the barest bit of warning, he started on Greg’s arse.

Greg cried out, jerking at the slap of the paddle against his skin, the noise more startling than the pain.

Mycroft place a hand on his back to keep him in place, striking him again and again with a steady pace.

Greg found himself relaxing, letting his emotions flow out through the tears streaming down his face at the paddling.

Mycroft kept going until his arse was bright red and he could see that he was finally relaxing. He set the paddle aside and ran his thumb through Greg’s tears, checking on him.

“Thank you, Master,” Greg murmured, eyes closing at Mycroft’s gentle touch.

“You’re welcome,” Mycroft kissed the top of his head. He unbound his wrists and helped Greg to his feet, gently guiding him, still blindfolded, up the stairs and into their bedroom.

Greg leaned into Mycroft’s touch, moving as directed. He sighed as he felt their bed at his legs, and was pushed gently over the edge to lay in the middle.

Mycroft undressed himself quickly. He spread Greg’s legs and began to lave the tender flesh with his tongue, working his way downward.

Greg moaned at the wet heat on his body, arching into the touch. “Please, sir?” He gasped, as Mycroft nipped at his inner thigh. “Please?”

Dropping his head, Mycroft ran his tongue over his entrance.

Greg’s eyes flew wide under the blindfold, bucking up into Mycroft’s tongue. That was one thing that had never been done, not in a relationship, and certainly not at the club. He twisted his hands in the sheets, fighting to keep his hips from jerking off the mattress.

Keeping an eye on him, Mycroft kept his hands on Greg’s thighs, still working the outside for a moments before pressing his tongue in.

Greg’s body tensed as Mycroft’s tongue drove into him, Greg crying out at the filthy sensation.

Mycroft fucked him with his tongue, loving the sensation as his lover started writhing against the bed. It was heavenly.

“My” Greg keened, overwhelmed and completely forgetting to use Mycroft’s title. “Fuck me.”

Mycroft didn’t mind. He pulled off and wiped his mouth, quickly slicking himself and pushing in.

Greg dropped his head and chest down, legs spreading wider as Mycroft thrust in and Greg thrust up into the pressure.

“So good for me, Gregory. So very, very good.” Mycroft whispered praise in his ear.

“Sir,” Greg groaned, reaching back blindly. He grasped at Mycroft’s arse, trying to push him deeper.

Mycroft pinned him, thrusting deep and hard, bare skin slapping against Greg’s tender arse.

Greg cried out as he came untouched, cock pressed between his belly and the bed.

“God, Gregory,” growled Mycroft, coming a moment later and filling him hard.

Greg whimpered as Mycroft withdrew, the bed dipping as he climbed off. A few minutes later, the blindfold was slipped off, and he blinked up at Mycroft as the man cleaned him gently, a flannel slipping between his legs.

Mycroft finished wiping him up and fetched a glass of water, helping him drink it slowly before lying down next to him and gently stroking his back.

“Thank you, My,” Greg murmured, eyes closed as he relaxed into the touch.

“You’re very, very welcome.”

“I had a really bad day.” Greg admitted quietly.

“That’s fine. We both do from time to time. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

Greg sighed. “Sherlock was being a prat, and Donovan and Anderson were fighting. But, Dimmock ended the day by laughing about the mark you left on my neck. Said some things.”

Mycroft’s hand stilled. “What did you say?”

“I told him to bugger off, and stop it just cause he was jealous he wasn’t getting any. Said I’d report him if he kept it up.” Greg sighed again. “Doesn’t matter now. Day’s over, time for a new one, yeah?”

“I’ll endeavor to keep my marks below the collar.”

“I don’t want you to.” Greg said, stretching. “I like seeing them, knowing they’re there.” He fell silent for a minute, before turning over in Mycroft’s arms to face him. “My?”

“Yes?”

“It’s been about two weeks, and if the offer still stands, I think I’d like to move in.”

Mycroft kissed him. “I’d like that very very much.”

“Really?” Greg asked.

“Really.” Mycroft gathered him in his arms. “I can’t imagine this without you.”

“I haven’t...I haven’t felt this comfortable with someone in a long time.” Greg whispered, tucking his face into Mycroft’s chest. “It’s wonderful.”

“I can say the same. I don’t trust...easily.”

Greg kissed his chest, and snuggled in closer, twining their legs together. “I’m not hungry or anything. Can we sleep for now? I’m tired.”

“That’s perfectly fine. Thank you for letting me take care of you.”

"Thank you for doing it," Greg whispered, squeezing him tight and closing his eyes.

“Always.” Mycroft ran a thumb along his collar and watched him fall asleep.

**

Sometime early in the morning, Greg blinked awake, suddenly inexplicably thirsty. He wriggled from Mycroft's arms and padded down to the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, sipping cool water happily when he heard the tinkle of breaking glass. Suddenly alert, he set the mug down, and slid open a drawer, pulling a set of small paring knives out.

The intruder opened the garden door and slipped down the hall, not expecting any trouble.

Greg thanked God he hadn't turned any lights on, but as he moved slowly toward the kitchen entrance, he found himself contemplating the lack of pants with a grin. As a shadow swept past the entrance, Greg struck, throwing a fist.

Mycroft woke to the sound of violence. He took a gun from the bedside drawer and slipped downstairs, uncertain what he’d find.

Greg elbowed the intruder in the stomach as the knife was knocked from his hand. He grunted as a heel collided with his breast bone, doubling over and scrambling for the other knife.

Mycroft came around the corner and saw the scuffle. The intruder had his back to him and Mycroft smiled, stepping forward and grabbing his hair, putting the gun against his jaw. “Freeze,” he said cooly.

Greg jerked in surprise even as the intruder froze. "Jesus, My." He stood back up, knives now firmly in hand.

The intruder muttered something. Mycroft pressed the gun against his jaw a little firmer and responded in the harsh tones of Eastern Europe. Without looking up he addressed Greg. “Press 556 on my mobile. Then meet me upstairs.”

"Right." Greg nodded, somewhat unsurprised that Mycroft apparently had a panic button. He did as instructed, and waited upstairs, sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers trailing around his collar. He tapped his feet, the adrenaline still strumming through his veins.

Mycroft delivered the would be assassin to his people and gave them words about upping his security. And Greg’s. Finally he turned and headed back upstairs. He put the gun back on the nightstand then turned feral eyes on the still naked detective.

Greg shivered as he met Mycroft's eyes, their color nearly gone despite the lamp light emitting from the bedside table. His heart was still pounding, body still jumping and he knew this was going to be fun. He shifted back on the bed just slightly, one hand moving to stroke his cock as his legs spread open.

Mycroft dropped his robe and pushed him further back. He kissed him hard, rocking their erections together, low growl in his throat.

Greg moaned into Mycroft's mouth, biting at his lower lip as he put his heels to Mycroft's thighs, pulling him in closer.

Mycroft shifted his hips and pressed the head of his cock against Greg’s entrance, watching him to see if it was too much.

Greg rocked his hips, nodding. He wanted it rough, wanted the stretch and burn. He captured Mycroft's mouth again, tongues twisting as Mycroft began to push in. He growled against Mycroft as his cockhead began to spread him.

God, Gregory was hot. Mycroft pinned his wrists with one hand, pushing in harder and deeper, nipping at Greg’s lower lip.

Greg groaned as Mycroft’s cock shoved deeper, filling him to the hilt. He pushed against the hands holding his wrists, wanting to argue, do anything that would make Mycroft take him harder.

Mycroft leaned down and bit his shoulder, marking his skin, taking him hard and fast, nearly animalistic in his need.

Greg moaned as Mycroft's teeth sank into his shoulder, not deep enough to break the skin, but enough that he'd be bruised for days. He bent his legs up, forcing Mycroft into a new angle. He stared up into Mycroft's eyes as the man raised his head, only their harsh breathing and the sounds of skin slapping together filling the room.

Mycroft knew his lover wanted it brutal, and he was happy to oblige, bruising his wrists as he squeezed, letting every bit of adrenaline fuel is actions.

Greg threw his head back as Mycroft hit his prostate with vicious thrust, his whole body shaking as he was taken, mounted and fucked like an animal. He moaned, biting his lip hard. His cock was hard and weeping bouncing against his front with each thrust.

“My good little guard dog,” growled Mycroft, free hand wrapping around his cock.

Greg cried out as Mycroft squeezed his cock, pulling him off in time with his thrusts. It was almost a surprise when he came, splattering come over the both of them. His mouth was suddenly filled with dirty fingers, and he whimpered even as he sucked, Mycroft still pounding into him.

Mycroft cried out loudly as he came, filing Greg, feeling filthy and loving it.

Greg panted as Mycroft collapsed atop him, feeling a thrill at the seed that filled him. "So good, Master. You fill me perfectly." He uttered, hands now freed to stroke Mycroft's back.

“You were made for me,” muttered Mycroft against his skin.

Greg blinked back a sudden wave of emotion, three words hovering at the front of his mind as he ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair. It was too soon, wasn't it?

Mycroft felt him tense. “What is it?” he asked.

"How long have we known each other, My?"

“All together? About two years.” Mycroft looked at him. “Why?”

Greg continued to thread his fingers through Mycroft's hair as he contemplated his next words. "I was wondering, if it would be too soon, to say I might be falling for you." He tensed waiting for Mycroft's response.

Mycroft studied his face. “Sentiment is not my strong suit,” he said at last. “But I can’t get you out of my mind, or my heart. I do believe that is the definition of falling in love.”

Greg relaxed, smiling at Mycroft. “Not now then, but soon, yeah?” He tugged Mycroft up, kissing him.

“No. I love you now.”

Greg blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then I love you too.”

“Good.” Mycroft kissed him soundly.

“Should we try sleeping again?” Greg asked with a grin. “No more assassins?”

“I cannot promise,” Mycroft smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!


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